


Yet Another Hospital Fanfic

by FailureArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hospital, Human AU, M/M, Mental Illness, Non-Sgurb AU, clichefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>human Karkat and Gamzee bond in the juvenile ward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yet Another Hospital Fanfic

                The first thing Karkat Vantas said to his roommate was: “How do I get out of this cocksucking place?”

 

                His roommate was a bit dazed by this abrupt question but managed to recite the answer: “When the doctors think you ain’t in danger to yo self or others.”

 

                Karkat grumbled. “I mean,” he said slowly, “how do I _escape_ from this cocksucking place?”

 

                The roommate was totally out of answers here, but his new roommate continued.

 

                “When do the guards change shifts?”

 

                “The guards? Huh? Don’t know. I think the staff got overlapping shifts.”

 

                “How carefully do they check presents? I think I can get my friend to bake a cake...”

 

                “Oh, yeah, we don’t get outside food, Consuela already tried to bring me some munchies.”

 

                “What day does the laundry service come in?”

 

                “They don’t come in any day, the staff just takes whatever we need done downstairs to the hospital laundry.”

 

                Karkat sat down on the bed next to his new roommate and put his head between his hands.

 

                “Of course,” he moaned, “If escaping was that easy a moron like you would have done it already.”

 

                His roommate replied, “Why would I escape? I checked myself in.”

 

                Karkat looked up at him. “You did? Why the fuck would you willingly subject yourself to this hellhole? Are you crazy?”

 

                “Yeah, that’s why I did it, I just told Consuela I was feelin’ really out-of-it, like I wasn’t really there, existing, you know, and she drove me to the hospital, and the hospital got the Old Man to say yeah Suburban Psychiatric can treat me , he gave permission over the phone, and now I been here for six days.”

 

                “Who the fuck is this Consuela person anyway?”

 

                “She the maid, she be living with us.”

 

                “ _You’re_ rich enough to afford a live-maid? You have even less excuse to talk like some white-trash wigger!”

 

                Karkat stood up and looked out the window at the flowering tree in the middle of the parking lot.

 

                “Six days?” he said, “Is that normal?”

 

                “Some people stay two weeks.”

 

                He looked at his fingers. “Goddamnit it’s only three fucking days until April 13, 2009 and I’m going to be stuck here!” 

 

                “What’ll ya miss?”

 

                He turned around dramatically. “Only the End of the World!”

 

                His roommate didn’t react.

 

                “Of course you aren’t freaking out, you probably hear that shit every day from every Napoleon-hatted psycho in this ward, but it’s the honest-to-god truth.” He added, “I am not a psycho.”

 

                “How’s it gonna happen?”

 

                “Meteors. Meteors transported from a dimension called...oh fuck it, I’ve already explained it a million times to every shrink in the hospital and I’m tired.” He sat down on the bed across from his roommate and flopped back.

 

                “I wouldn’t mind hearing it, bro.”

 

                Karkat sat back up and spoke energetically. “You see, there’s this game called Sgrub, or Sburb, I’m not quite clear on the name but who the fuck cares, but it’s the only way any of us can survive the coming Apocalypse. It came to me in a dream, I dreamed of this golden planet, a really gaudy place actually where you got to wear stupid yellow pajamas, and these white chess people told me about the game. I’ve spent the last month compiling information about this game, you see God has left little hints in the world, like little in-jokes, and I collected them in a series of notebooks and I wrote this program, it’s buggy as hell but if I had some time I could fix it, and I was going to put it on the internet so anyone smart enough to figure it out could be saved and we could create a new world.”

 

                He caught his breath. “Don’t think I’ve been going around telling everyone on the city bus about this. Before I was forced to tell it to my Dad and the shrinks I’d only told my _former_ friend John.” He looked to his side and scowled. “He thought it sounded like the movie Donnie Darko.”

 

                “Never heard of it.”

 

                “It’s this time travel movie. I think it’s pretentious teen angst but John likes it. He likes every movie.” He continued, “After that I decided to keep it a secret, but my Dad caught me talking to an informant and freaked out because,” he sang mockingly, “ ‘kids shouldn’t talk to strangers’.”

 

                “An informant?”  

 

                “This really cool black guy with black fedora called Spades Slick. We became blood brothers.” He showed a scar on his right hand. “We actually cut our palms and shook hands, just like kids used to do before AIDS. But my Dad caught us and freaked out. I told him he was going to show me something, Dad said he was only going to show me his stabs. And then he had me committed.

 

                “My month of herculean effort, fuck, one and a half months of effort, writing down everything I saw, reading my insulting programming manuals, learning and practicing chess, trying to have that dream again instead of nightmares of blood, staying up all night working, watching Con Air ten times...all shot to hell cause I talked to the wrong hobo.

 

                “So now that you know about my ‘frame of reference’ delusions, what symptoms do they claim you have, umm...” He gestured at his roommate expectantly.

 

                “Oh! Yeah, M’name’s Gamzee Makara.”

 

                “Karkat Vantas. Anyway, what do they say about you?” He pointed to Gamzee’s battered ICP shirt. “Do they say you have ‘religious delusions’ because you worship those Halloween house rejects?”

 

                “Nah, Dr. Hatter say her nephew’s a Juggalo and she think it’s just a ‘new youth-friendly approach to Christianity’.”

 

                “Figures. Christians get to believe in a vagabond from some obscure desert rose from the dead and changed wine into blood and they get a pass on it because so many people fell for it. Then what are you in for?”

 

                “I told you, I turned myself in. I couldn’t remember things, hours just disappearing, I’d be drifting off. Sometimes I could see myself, but like a dream, but mostly I’d just wake up and there’d be words and shit everywhere.”

 

                Karkat leaned in intently. “What sort of words?”

 

                “I don’t know, I mostly drew rainbows and smiley faces, but one time I wrote ‘honk HONK’ over and over on the walls.”

 

                Karkat reached to a spot next to him. “Now how was that written...” He looked down at the bed. “Fuck, I forgot those cuntstains took my notebooks! They probably have them locked up in some evidence locker, if they haven’t burnt them. Damnit.”

 

                He looked back up at Gamzee and Gamzee continued.

 

                “This one night I woke up in the bathtub with blood in my eyes and mouth so I got up to the mirror and saw this crazy shit here.” He pointed to the three long scars on his face.

 

                Karkat looked sick. “I was afraid to ask about that.”

 

                “Yeah, it sucks, if only I got my paint. Anyway, my ninjas would come by, hitting me up for PCP, I’d tell them I ain’t got any, and they’d say, ‘shit, we saw your motherfuckin’ ass riding PCP’. But I wasn’t on anything, not booze, not pot, I’d even managed to kick heroin two months back.”

 

                “Heroin! Where the fuck does a teenager get heroin? Whatever happened to stealing Grandma’s meds?” 

 

                “I’m like a motherfuckin’ ninja at getting the good stuff. Plus I got an allowance bigger than Miley Cyprus’s. Anyway, I’m clean, followed my New Year’s resolution like a good little motherfucker, but maybe that just caused me to go insane, like it’s all withdrawal, or maybe it’s the drugs that made me insane in the first place, you know? Like that motherfucker who dropped too much acid and thought he was an orange.”

 

                “That is totally an urban legend, but you still shouldn’t poison your brain with drugs. Not even the stupid pills these douchebag doctors give you.”

 

                “I don’t know about that. Anyway, so after breaking this girl’s wrist...”

 

                “You broke a girl’s wrist?”

 

                “Yeah friend of mine, Nepeta, she’s a cool chick. That’s probably why my ninjas thought I was on PCP. So I went to Consuela and asked her to help me out...”

 

                “Why didn’t you go to your parents? Where the fuck are your parents anyway?”

 

                “My Old Man’s still on tour, he’s a motherfuckin’ musician.”

 

                “Don’t tell me he opens for ICP, or, dear god, is ICP.”

 

                “Actually, he does jazz. Blows the horn. He’s damn good at it so he ain’t home a lot. So Consuela crosses herself and says she was afraid I was possessed but she drives me right away to the hospital and they say, ‘we got to get your parent’s permission’. Took a long fuckin’ time and they got caught up talkin’ with his shitty-ass manager but at one in the morning they finally got the motherfucker and he said yes. So here I am.” 

 

                Karkat leaned back a little. “Fuck, you have some serious issues. You really are a ‘threat to yourself and others’.”

 

                Gamzee pointed at him. “You got some issues yo self. Thinking you’re the motherfuckin’ messiah, seeing secret messages all up everywhere, cutting yourself...”

 

                “Don’t compare my ancient and legitimate ritual to you blacking-out and almost slicing off your nose. I wasn’t planning on hurting anybody. Hell, I was going to save the goddamn world!”

 

                “See? Messiah. At least I know I’m crazy. I don’t believe any of the shit I write down. I’m mean, shit, do you really think God gonna place the fate of the whole motherfuckin’ world on some kids playin’ video games?”

 

                Karkat gritted his teeth and rung his hands. “I know it sounds crazy. I’m not crazy enough to think the whole thing isn’t crazy. I can still say I’m not that deluded.”

 

                He held his head in his hands again and shook it. “Ahh, fuck, I still look crazy. I’m like my crazy old Pop-pop. Some people on the rez think he’s a shaman, maybe he is, he’s said shit about meteors too, but to the white man he’s just another indian who’s had too much fire water and peyote.”

 

                “Didn’t know you was Native American.”

 

                “Yeah, three-fourths.” He looked out the window. “It may all be delusions but I just can’t let it go. I know something horrible is going to happen.”

 

                A moment passed.

 

                Karkat croaked, “I’m scared. I’m scared I’m going to fuck things up, scared I’ve already fucked things up, scared there’s nothing to fuck up and it’s just my brain’s that fucked up. Jesus, the only thing I’m not scared of is the meteors, I only wish I’d never heard of them. I could have lived a nice, sane, short life thinking April 13 was just going to be another Monday.”

 

                He started to cry. Gamzee went over and sat next to him.

 

                “I’m gonna be your friend, okay?” he said.

 

                Karkat sobbed, “Whatever, it’s not like John’s going to visit me anyway, let alone bake me one of his godawful cakes.”

 

                “Yeah, my friends are assholes too, only around me cause I give them drugs, except maybe Nepeta, but she ain’t too happy with me now. And my own motherfuckin’ father, shit, he won’t even cut his tour short when his only son lands in the hospital. Fuck those motherfuckers.”

 

                He raised his arm and was about to put it on but paused.

 

                “Hey, Karkat,” he said, “It cool if I put my arm ‘round ya?”

 

                Karkat hesitated. “Well, okay, I guess.”

 

                Gamzee did so, pulling him in close. Karkat stiffened then relaxed with an exasperated sigh. They stayed like that for a while. Gamzee broke the silence.

 

                “Hell, let’s be more than just motherfuckin’ friends.”

 

                Karkat pulled away. “No, I am not a...I’m not sure...there’s someone else I think...”

 

                Gamzee laughed. “Naw, man, not like that! I mean, not just friends like someone you hang out with, cause that’s easy to find. I mean someone to look after you and protect you and keep you from flipping out and hurting yo self and others.”

 

                “Sounds like a therapist-brother-friend.” He leaned back into Gamzee. “I could go for that.”

 

                “Cool.” Gamzee held out his fist. “Super-therapist-brother-friends?”

 

                “Super-therapist-brother-friends.”

 

               They sealed the deal with a fist bump to end all fist bumps.


End file.
